Jordan’s blood tingled in anticipation.
“Is that the girl’s name?” he queried.
“Yes, she’s a niece of a cobbler up the track yonder, and as pretty a little minx as walks Paradise Road. If I had ’er I’d fix her. I’d beat her till she minded me, I c’n tell y’ that!”
“I believe beating’s the way to subdue most women,” said Morse, lighting a cigarette. But as he said this, a 230 slight smile passed over his face. He thought of Molly Merriweather in connection with the man’s logic.
“It’s the way pa done to my stepmother,” observed Maudlin presently. “She was a onery woman as ever you see, but pa one day just licked her, and then licked ’er every day till now she don’t dast but mind ’im.... I’d do that with Jinnie if I had ’er.”
Morse watched rings of smoke curl upward in the summer air, breaking among the branches of the trees.
“Why don’t you steal ’er?” he demanded at length.
Bates’ lower jaw fell down, showing discolored teeth. He stared at his inquisitor in consternation. Then he dropped back into his former slovenly attitude.
“I never thought o’ that,” said he.
“I’ll help you,” offered Morse, carelessly, brushing ashes from his coat lapel.